


Unexpected

by writerdot



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdot/pseuds/writerdot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House gets an idea...and thinks Wilson is pretty disgusting. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

He gets the idea, as he often gets many of his ideas, in the midst of a completely mundane activity.

Namely, watching Wilson brush his teeth as House sits in a hot bath, soaking his leg after a crappy day with boring patients.

He has no idea why he didn’t think of it before, and why he’s even thinking about it now.

But he is. He’s going to ask Wilson to marry him.

He just has to figure out a way to do it, because, unfortunately, Wilson is tuned into anything wedding related. The gross dork.

“You’re grossing me out,” he says, before he can stop the words. Well, it’s kind of true. For many reasons, actually, not just the wedding thing. Having Wilson as best friend for 21 + years, and his…whatever…for a few of those, has made him soft in ways he would never expect. Luckily, that hasn’t stopped his inability to keep his mouth shut. He’s going to propose, for God’s sake.

Wilson spits into the sink, and then looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “By brushing my teeth? I’ve had worse things in my mouth.”

House rolls his eyes, mostly for show, because Wilson isn’t going to know the exact reason Wilson disgusts him. Yet. Maybe he’ll illuminate him later. “Exactly. Get out.”

Wilson snorts, which House finds extremely rude, and walks over, plants a sloppy kiss on House’s mouth. “Yell if you need me.”

Damn it. He tastes really good, too.

The gross moron.

*****

He decides to start a prank war.

Of course, it’s totally Wilson’s fault this idea came to him when it did.

The way-too-well-groomed-as-usual idiot had long since left for work, at the unjust time of 7 A.M., with a kiss and a plea to get in sometime before noon before leaving for the day.

So House did what he always does. He steals Wilson’s pillow (not because it smells like Wilson or anything, but because Wilson is a pillow hog and he’s just getting a little of his own back) and curls up to get, at least, another two hours in.

He’s got his eyes closed for ten minutes when he realizes that getting back to sleep is impossible until he figures out what he’s going to do. He keeps thinking of ways to ask Wilson to marry him. And reasons why they won’t work, because faking optimism is Wilson’s deal.

He can’t do it traditionally. He shudders to think of himself getting down onto one knee, imagining the thigh cramping up at the wrong moment and ruining everything, as it is wont to do. And besides, he’s fairly sure that’s how Wilson proposed to the dopes before him, and that is enough to seal the deal.

He briefly considers getting a blimp or plane or something like that. But realizes that he can’t do that because it’s totally predicable. And also expensive. He’s managed to save money all these years by mooching off of Wilson, and he isn’t going to waste it on something he isn’t going to be able to drive himself, since he obviously can’t maneuver a blimp and watch Wilson’s facial expression at the same time.

It’s another hour and a half before he decides on an old classic: the prank war. Mostly because he hasn’t put pickle juice in Wilson’s coffee in a long time, and also because it’s Wilson’s fault he’s decided to do this, thereby depriving him of hours of precious sleep.

He’s sure there’s a fault in his logic somewhere, but as he rolls over and shuts his eyes, he doesn’t much give a shit.

****

“House, for God’s sake, get UP!”

House blinks his eyes open and sees his lover’s irritated visage glaring down at him. He glances at the clock sees that it reads 1:12 P.M.

He looks at Wilson. “Oops.”

Wilson predictably rolls his eyes and plants his hands on his hips. “Is this because I told you to get in before noon?”

“No, it’s because…” Crap, stupid Wilson catching him off guard. “Yes. Yes it is.”

House can practically see him mentally count back from ten. “Your team has a case for you.”

“Why didn’t they just call?” House asks, as he sits up, only to have his phone tossed at his bare chest with a thump.

“It’s dead.”

“Guess I’ll have to pick up a new one, which will make me even later. How sad.”

Wilson rolls his eyes again so hard that House, not for the first time, wonders when they’re going to pop out of his head. “Plug it in and get in the shower. I’ll go make you something to eat.”

House bats his eyes as he grabs his cane and levers himself out of bed. “I love you, pookie.”

Wilson strides out of the room, the flaps of his raincoat billowing around him. “Shower. Now.”

Getting Wilson irritated enough that he speaks in monosyllables is his favorite. It may not have been intentional, but he’s just going to consider this prank number one.

****

The next morning is the day that he decides to pull the first official prank.

It starts with Wilson’s underwear drawer and a container of cottage cheese.

He’d originally wanted do it the previous night, where it could sit all night and Wilson would get the surprise when he was getting ready to be saintly Doctor James Wilson, but, well, Wilson had decided to take a shower and, one thing had led to another…

Let’s just say he hadn’t gotten the chance.

So the morning it is. House never joins Wilson in the shower in the mornings, because as much as he likes a wet, naked, Wilson, he hates the early morning just as much. So it’s the perfect time to drag himself, groaning when he sees the time, (silently, in his head, because Wilson has an ear for that sort of thing) so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

With one last look at the closed bathroom door, he sighs, gets up, and goes to the kitchen. He listens for the shower the whole time as he grabs the cottage cheese and makes his way to the bedroom, which is taking longer than he’d calculated, due to his need to hold onto his cane too.

Damn it. He supposes he could just do it tonight instead, but discards that idea, because it will set him behind on his schedule. The fact that the schedule doesn’t actually exist is completely beside the point.

He knew he should have resisted Wilson last night and found a way to do it then, but he will just have to make do.

He’s got the drawer ajar and is working the lid off the cottage cheese when the door to the bathroom opens and Wilson’s voice is behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

House turns around, gripping his cane, the spoon and the container in each hand and smiles. “Hi, honey.”

He honestly hadn’t expected the silent treatment Wilson had given him for the rest of the day.

****

It occurs to him, three days later, that, while fun, he still can’t figure out how exactly to ask Wilson to marry him without arousing his suspicions.

Yeah, the pranks are a good distraction, but how to get to the end result…well, he supposes that it will come to him when the time is right.

So he goes back to gluing every piece of paper to Wilson’s desk as he contemplates his choices.

****

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

Wilson is in his office within the hour, which is actually more time than House thought it would take.

“Who died?”

Wilson squints at him, tilts his head to the side. “No one. Why? What did you do?”

“Besides making you unable to do your paperwork?”

“I keep copies of everything, just in case.”

“That’s smart,” House answers, honestly. He isn’t really surprised; Wilson has long since reached Olympic levels at having ‘In case of House’ contingencies.

“Oh, gee thanks,” Wilson retorts. “Are you trying to start something?”

House winks. “Always.”

“I really hate you.”

“I know you do.”

Wilson plants his butt in the chair across from House’s desk, his elbows on the desk. “Are you planning to stop this war anytime soon? Yesterday, you managed to put peanut butter in the locks at home.”

“Still not going to tell you how I did that.”

“Fine,” Wilson snaps. “I don’t care anyway.”

“Yes, you do.”

“House.” Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” House hedges, planting his feet on the desk. “Just bored.”

Wilson tilts his head again and stares at him angrily. House really hates it when he does that. Mostly because he isn’t really sure why Wilson seems so pissed. Granted, at least he’s talking to him.

Wilson shakes his head and gets up. “Give it a rest, House. Stay out of my stuff.”

****

He actually does, for a little while. Not because Wilson asked him to, but because he’s at a loss. So, he decides to get some advice.

“Get out, House.”

“Oh, come on, boss.” House whines. “You’re supposed to be the guy with the open door policy, you know. What happens if I go to HR and tell them that your door isn’t always open?”

Foreman doesn’t even bother to look up from his paperwork. A Wilson trait. He’s pretty sure they must teach that in a ‘Department Heads Who Give a Crap about Paperwork’ training course or something. “They would laugh in your face and call to tell me to keep up the good work.”

House shrugs and makes himself at home in one of the chairs across from the desk. He looks at them and wishes he had some coffee or something to spill on them, because they are way too clean and pretty.

Wait. He needs to stop getting distracted. “I need your help.”

Still writing. “Really.”

“Yes.”

He must do a good job of sounding sincere (mostly since he is) because Foreman seems to soften. He glances up at House just briefly. “How much is it going to cost me?”

“And by “you” you mean the hospital, right? Nothing. Unless “you” want to pay for the honeymoon.”

Foreman stops writing and actually looks him at him, blinking with confusion. House would celebrate putting that look on his face if he had the time. “What?”

“Homo-marriage has been legal for a while,” House says, but Foreman holds up a hand.

“Are you trying to tell me that you and Wilson-“

“Are getting hitched?” House twists the cane between his open palms. “Don’t know yet. Haven’t gotten that far.”

“You want to ask Wilson to marry you?”

Foreman asks this slowly, as though trying to figure out a particularly difficult math equation. Or House wanting to get married. Legally. Without defrauding the government.

Which, House will give him, obviously isn’t outside the realm of possibility.

“That’s about it, yes.”

Foreman actually puts his pen aside, folds his hands over his paperwork and gives House his full attention. House doesn’t think that’s ever happened before.

Cool.

“So, what’s the problem? You’ve been divorced from the hooker for quite a while, right?”

“She wasn’t a hooker,” House says automatically, because, yeah, it was a weird situation, but Dominica was still a cool chick. Wilson even sends her and her boyfriend a Christmas card.

“Fine,” Foreman capitulates.

“And it isn’t about that.”

“Okay,” Foreman prods.

House doesn’t like this feeling of being totally unsure of something. He can think of only a handful of times that it’s happened. Even when he’s diagnosing someone, he’s always sure until it’s time to try out the next choice on the white-board.

“Idon’tknowhowtodoit.”

“Come again?”

House exhales an irritated breath. “I can’t figure out how to do it.”

Foreman leans back in his chair, obviously amused. “I’m guessing that has something to do with the prank war.”

“It isn’t even a prank war, because he won’t fight back. All he does is get mad, which, to be fair, he could probably get a doctorate in passive aggressive irritation.”

“Because he knows you’re up to something.”

Now it’s House turn to blink in confusion.

Foreman chuckles. “You’re both idiots.”

“Hey-!”

“Look, House, Wilson knows you’re up to something. That’s why he won’t retaliate.”

“And you know this, because…”

Foreman rolls his eyes. “By TALKING to him. I knew asking you wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I went to him. He told me you started pranking him recently. His gut was telling him something was up, but he couldn’t get it out of you.”

Stupid Wilson and his stupid House radar. “And he didn’t say he suspected anything.”

“House, I don’t think anyone would expect you to pop the question. But if you wanted to distract him, you went about it all wrong, because all you’ve done is make him suspicious anyway.”

House feels like he should have seen that coming. “Well, fine. So what do I do?”

Foreman shrugs. “Why not just ask him?”

After all these years, he would think Foreman would know him better. “Because that would be boring, duh.”

“It would be the last thing he would expect,” Foreman counters.

House considers this for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Foreman picks up his pen again. “Now, I hear you’re testing Mr. Oskar for…”

House decides he’s had enough of Foreman now, and levers himself up and out of his chair with remarkable speed.

In fact, he’s out of there so fast, he misses Foreman’s smirk as he picks up his phone.

****

He manages to avoid both his patient (as usual) and Wilson for the rest of the day. The latter is really difficult, because he always manages to be around him even when he doesn’t mean to.

It’s nearly six, and he’s sitting on the roof of the hospital, against the wall, turning his cane around and around, watching it as he contemplates.

He could just sit him down and ask.

Hell, he could lure him down to the clinic with the promise of a quickie and spit it out. And have the quickie. It’s a win-win.

Unless, of course, Wilson says no...but-

“Did you know,” a familiar, amused, voice says from his right. House drops his head and hides a smile, since smiling tends to happen around Wilson without his permission, too. He also knows that he’s long since passed the point of fooling Wilson, but reflex makes him try it anyway.

He looks up once he makes the corners of his mouth turn down. He sees Wilson standing there, tie around his neck, top button undone, hands in his pockets and looking so goddamn disgustingly beautiful, that his mouth threatens to turn up again against his will. He has to make a concerted effort to frown.

“Did I know…” He prods as Wilson makes his way over, sinks to the ground next to him.

“That you’re a complete moron,” Wilson finishes, still looking like he might burst out laughing at any moment. House thinks he might punch that smirk off his face, if he wasn’t so confused. Wilson has spent the last week looking alternately annoyed and pissed off with him, so the about-face has thrown him a bit.

“Why am I a moron this time?”

Wilson’s left hand is still in his pocket; House can feel it moving around against his thigh.

“What, are you trying to masturbate? Because you’re going about it the wrong-“

But he stops when Wilson takes his hand out. Holds his breath when he holds that hand up.

It’s not empty, that hand. In the middle of his palm Wilson is holding a small black box.

And it all falls into place.

“You,” House says, looking at Wilson in awe. “Son of a bitch.”

Wilson smirk softens. “Yeah.”

“So that morning, with the cottage cheese…”

“It was in the back under my underwear,” Wilson confirms. “I had picked it up a few days before, put it there temporarily. You have a thing about sharing it; I figured the ring was safe for the time being.”

“You moved it after.”

“To the bottom desk drawer,” Wilson answers. House nods, because that explains Wilson’s reaction after the gluing incident. He’d been afraid that House had found it in the midst of his prank spree.

“Well, that was stupid.”

Wilson huffs a laugh. “I know. I had just put it there so I could give it to Foreman to hide, but you got to my office before I had the chance.”

House scoffs, his conversation with Foreman coming back to him. “Did he know the whole time?”

“I only told him after the cottage cheese incident. When the pranking started because I was actually afraid you HAD found the ring somehow and that’s why you were pranking me, trying to…I don’t know... tell me how ridiculous it was.”

“That’s stupid, too.”

“I know, okay?” Wilson is still holding the ring box, gripping it in a fist, resting on his thigh. “I was nervous. We’ve both had…interesting marriages before.”

“So why now?” House asks, curious.

Wilson shrugs. “Prison time, cancer…everything we’ve been through. This seemed only slightly less daunting. I just wanted it to be the right time.”

House laughs a little. “I know that feeling.”

Wilson finally looks at him. “Yeah, when Foreman called me and filled me in on your conversation, I was definitely surprised. I can’t say I saw that coming.”

House bumps shoulders. “House-radar a little off?”

Wilson bumps him back. “Must be.”

House kisses the side of his head. “So.”

“So.” Wilson leans into him, looks him in the eye again.

House grabs the fist, opens his fingers. “I didn’t get you a ring.”

“I don’t care, House.”

House kind of does, though. It hadn’t even occurred to him to get Wilson a ring.

He’s brought out of this train of thought when Wilson bumps his shoulder again.

Wilson looks down at their hands. “How about it?”

House raises an eyebrow and Wilson laughs gently.

“Marry me, you ass.”

House smiles and leans even closer to Wilson, nibbles gently on his top lip. “Gimme,” he whispers and Wilson presses the box into his hand.

So, now he’s wearing a ring and making out with Wilson on the roof of the hospital.

Absolutely abhorrent.

He’s never felt better.


End file.
